


Formal Functions

by EllieL



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Original Trilogy
Genre: Awards, Developing Relationship, Established Relationship, F/M, Family, Formalwear, Politics, Pregnancy, Undercover, Vignettes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-05
Updated: 2021-02-05
Packaged: 2021-03-17 04:20:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,738
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29219394
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EllieL/pseuds/EllieL
Summary: Six scenes from formal events during the developing and ongoing relationship of Leia and Han.
Relationships: Leia Organa/Han Solo
Comments: 12
Kudos: 51





	Formal Functions

The dress she was wearing was not the one she’d have chosen out of of her selection of official attire. But only a few dresses had been located that would even fit her, and needs must. 

So here she stood, doing exactly the type of ornamental princessing that her parents had always been adamant that she avoid--standing on a platform, presenting a medal, merely looking  _ pretty _ and honoring others. There was no medal for  _ her _ role in the victory, no posthumous medal for Andor or any of the others lost, not even a medal for the Wookie copilot.

As the two men strode down the temple towards her, she rolled back her shoulders and lifted her chin, standing as tall as possible. Her official smile was plastered on her face as she gazed across the assembly of ragtag revolutionaries, the two new heroes in cobbled together attire as they strode towards her.

They were both handsome, in very different ways. The younger man was surely closer to what the galaxy would expect her to be attracted to: a nice young man, with twinkling eyes and a ready smile, if rather more naivete than she was used to. The older man was the opposite of that naivete--he was nothing but galaxy-weary, wary of saying much about himself to anyone beyond bluster, but stars, was he handsome.

The young blond man--Luke, she recalled--smiled the wholesomely the entire way up the stairs to her, looking dazzled and delighted. She kept her standard official smile in place in return. Only when the taller man--Han--was granted his medal did he smile at her, with a brilliant lopsided grin and an insouciant wink at her. 

No one else would have dared. Leia couldn’t help but smile, really smile, in return. 

It felt like the first time in years she’d truly smiled.

*

The turquoise silk of the gown seemed to float over her skin, except for the warm points where Han’s hands rested warm and low on her back as they whirled around the room.

“You look good in color,  _ Meena _ ,” he whispered in her ear.

She pulled back from where she’d let herself lean into him, eyes widening in surprise. Almost in spite of herself, but fully in keeping with their assumed identities, she smiled at him. “You clean up awfully well yourself,  _ Zak _ .”

His grin of response made her feel lighter on her feet than any sparkling wine she’d ever had. There was an awkward beat as the music paused between songs, then the music thundered into an Alderaanian tango. 

For a moment, she held her breath and his gaze, feeling frozen. He seemed to soften into her, and she felt a frisson run through her as their bodies connected. There was only the faintest awareness of the data drive in the pocket of his trousers, the whole reason for this mission, as it pressed into her thigh--at least she  _ hoped _ it was the data drive. Then he twirled her away from him, and her breath caught again, and her feet fell into familiar steps she’d known since childhood.

*

The celebration on Endor had only been a prelude to the galactic celebrations following the fall of the Empire. The New Republican governing council had organized a fete to feed the media frenzy for the new heroes, to visualize the new liberty of its citizens. Where Endor had all the impulsive joy of a upset smashball championships victory celebration, the Coruscant celebration had been choreographed down to the minute.

For the first time in what felt like years, she was in heels, and shifted impatiently from already sore foot to already sore foot as they waited to make their entrance. Luke stood near the door, quiet and still as a statue, already weary of ceremony and ready to get to work rebuilding the Jedi as she wanted to get to work rebuilding the Republic. But all of that counted on the galactic citizenry supporting their efforts, so they stood waiting here instead, dressed to the nines as fanfares announced their compatriots.

A warm hand caught her left, thumb worrying at the new ring that rested there. It was a little too large, and he’d wrapped a bit of spacer’s tape around the back of it to get it to fit last night, promising to take it to a jeweler the beginning of the week. But she looked down at his warm hand wrapping around hers, and was tempted to tell him to leave it the way it was, to wear it that way forever to remind her of where things had begun, and where he’d proposed.

As she opened her mouth to speak, though, a flourish of music and the amplified voice of an MC-11 announced Luke’s entrance in the ballroom. 

They would be next. 

Instead of saying anything, she squeezed his hand, pressing the ring finger a little harder against his knuckles, and gave him a dazzling smile.

He lifted the hand to his lips and brushed it with a kiss, before releasing her and offering her his arm. She wrapped her hand around the stark white of his dress uniform sleeve, sparkling ring unmissable as they walked into the room to the accompanying flourish.

*

The music from the party was so loud that she could barely hear herself think. Or perhaps Han was mostly to blame for that--she hadn’t thought this dress exposed that much skin, but his fingers had found every inch of it, teasing her bared thigh under the table at dinner, sliding up the column of her spine as they’d danced, fingers trailing down her bare arm to pull her out and away from the noise and the crowds. 

The balcony was marginally quieter, and cooler, scented with nightblooming plants and afternoon rain rather than gaudy perfumes of a hundred different planets. Mindful of the long hem of her dress, he’d pulled her back into one of the dry alcoves, away from puddles and prying eyes. She wrapped herself around him, reaching up to encircle his neck and pull him down for a kiss, slow and deep. He encouraged her to hitch her leg a bit higher around his, dress falling away from the high slit. Fingers trailed up higher, through surprisingly few layers of fabric, as lips swallowed her moan with a deeper kiss.

When the kiss broke, she trailed more down his jaw, whispering, “This trip has been---”

“Shh,” he cut her off. Then his hand unerringly found what he’d slowly been drifting towards, thumb on her clit and finger sliding into her, and she forgot, for just a few minutes, why this week had been so terrible, beyond keeping them apart far too much.

He touched her in counterpoint to the horrible music blaring out to them, and when she started to cry out in the interval between notes, his mouth found hers again, and kept them both silent.

  
  


*

The room was overcrowded and overheated, and she was struggling. Pushing back from her plate slightly, trying to get away from the pungent roast nalla, she took a deep breath and closed her eyes, trying to find some calm in the Force to wrap around herself, to soothe her rebellious body. A gentle, familiar hand came to rest just above her knee, discreetly under the edge of the table, and she felt some of that concern and love wash over her. Han may not be Force-sensitive, but the Force was not beyond transmitting her husband’s feelings to her when they were most needed.

He leaned close, lips almost brushing her ear, and asked, “Do we need to get outta here?” Pulling back, he gestured at the plate and smiled, giving nothing to those who might be watching them. He’d learned enough subterfuge and subtlety in his years smuggling and playing sabacc to be good at this, better even than she’d expected.

The practiced, polite smile she’d been schooled in since toddlerhood surfaced, and she nodded. “It’s good.”

Nodding, he studied the dinner crowd for a moment, then looked back to her. “I can pretend to choke. Got me outta that thing on Ryloth that one time, remember?”

She knew with certainty that he would do it, and there was a not small part of her that wanted to be back on the Falcon, curled up in their bunk, sleeping. But no one else knew about this yet, and she had an obligation here to both the New Republic and their Glivian hosts. “We’re fine.”

He nodded again, then picked up his fork and speared a piece of vegetable, waving it at her. “Just say the word. I got you.”

“You always do,” she said, reaching for her water glass to hide her smile from the rest of the room.

*

Applause swelled and filled the chamber, enough to overwhelm the resounding silence from several of the delegations. Leia kept her face at a studied, pleased neutral, appropriate to the seriousness of the occasion but appropriate to how she felt about the state of the galaxy, and delivering her final speech on it. She was leaving it better than she’d started with it, and could only hope that this Pax Organa held long beyond her tenure.

Gazing out over the various groups, one might have assumed she was taking it all in one last time. But her eyes were making their way to the family box, to the standing ovation still ringing out there for her, for the couple of whistles she’d known immediately had come from Han and nowhere else.

Even across the cavernous space, with the aid of the Force she knew the gaze of her children, could feel their enthusiasm and pride. She could feel Han through the Force, too, fainter, but she didn’t need its help to know how he felt, how proud and supportive of her he’d been all along, every step of the way. She knew his eyes were on her, and found his unerringly.

To the rest of the chamber, to those watching on the Holo, it might have looked as if she was soaking it all in one last time. But she stared across the space thinking of nothing but their departure on the Falcon in two hours, on a trip she’d had absolutely nothing to do with planning.

She smiled, and stepped back from the rostrum, and went to meet her husband. 

*


End file.
